


Golden Light

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confessions, Intimacy, Loyalty, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Rated for Sex Mention, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Sylvain and Claude share an intimate moment, and Sylvain realizes he knows almost nothing about Claude himself. In seeking answers, he finds more than he'd ever dared to hope for.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 178





	Golden Light

**Author's Note:**

> "What reason would Sylvain have to join the Golden Deer, and stick with the Alliance during the war?" 
> 
> This is the question that brought about the creation of this fic. I spent a long time dwelling on it, and found... a hell of a lot of answers, actually. This fic touches on a few of them.
> 
> You may have noticed that the rating is M. If yo ucheck the tags, you'll see that it's rated such for the _mention_ of sex. Sorry to say this fic never gets too spicy. :( It is a mild salsa at best. But that's not really the point, and I hope by reading this, it makes sense why I chose to write this particular conversation in this particular moment for them. 
> 
> (I realize this is not the first time I've written Claudevain post-sex. And I doubt it will be the last.)
> 
> I love these two.
> 
> EDIT: There are now Author's Notes available on patreon for this fic! Please check my twitter linked in the end notes to find a pinned patreon access link.

One last breath, one last smile. Sylvain reaches up to touch Claude's face, and Claude collapses, lurching to the side and flopping down onto the bed.

He lands next to Sylvain, back flat against the mattress. His chest heaves, rising and falling in time with Sylvain's as they both try to steady their breathing: in, out, in, out. He's beautiful. Sylvain just wishes he had the voice to say so, in this moment.

The thought flees his mind as Claude reaches for him and tangles a hand in his hair. Sylvain rolls onto his side, props himself up on an elbow and smiles down at Claude. He traces a finger down his sternum, slow and light. Claude's skin is still tacky with sweat. Somehow, Sylvain finds he doesn't mind in the least. 

He bows his head, letting his hair dangle above Claude's face and tickle his cheek. He smiles. "All good?" 

"Shut up and kiss me." Claude hooks an arm around Sylvain's neck and pulls him down to close the gap between them, and Sylvain goes happily, humming against Claude's lips when they finally meet. 

The kiss is long, slow, soft. Nothing at all like the urgent, frantic ones they had shared only moments ago. It's nice, intimate in a way that Sylvain had always been unfamiliar with before falling into bed with Claude. And yet still, that unfamiliarity tugs at him, even as he rejoices in it. It pulls at his heart, whispers insidiously in the back of his mind. 

Claude pulls away first, concern almost imperceptible in his eyes, but Sylvain knows better. Knows him better. "Something the matter?" 

"Just thinking," Sylvain says with a tiny shake of the head. It jostles his hair, makes his bangs fall around his eyes. Claude pushes it back. 

"Sylvain, it is entirely too soon after sex to be thinking," he scolds. His expression is fond, if exasperated. Sylvain finds it endearing. 

"This from the guy who never turns his brain off?" He flicks Claude's temple, earning a playful flinch and laugh in response. "Please."

"Okay, okay." Claude sits up and faces Sylvain, apparently conceding that the matter won't be dropped anytime soon. "What were you thinking about?" 

A million things. Nothing at all. Too much, and yet not enough. Sylvain could list it all, the myriad thoughts and feelings that cross his mind every time he looks at Claude, the wonder that claws at him whenever they're in bed together. The deep, horrifying realization that somehow, against all odds, he cares. Cares about Claude, about who he is, about what he thinks and feels and wants. 

Sylvain wants to say it all. Instead, all he says is "You."

There's a long, silent pause, stifling in it the way it surrounds them. Claude fixes Sylvain with a strange look, one of apprehension and intrigue and suspicion all at once. "What about me?" 

Everything he might have wanted to say goes to war on the tip of Sylvain's tongue. Everything he doesn't want to say competes to be spoken aloud, too; the easy responses, the "how hot you are" and the “how much I want you, always” burn in his throat, eager to get out; but for once, Sylvain swallows down the urge to spout ridiculous pick-up lines and the desire to conjure poems singing Claude's praises.

The moment stretches out before Sylvain. He swallows, thinks, and then, at last, he takes hold of it to answer, in all seriousness: "I know nothing about you."

No response, just a raised brow. He continues: "You're always going on about having all these lofty goals and grand dreams, and yet nobody seems to know anything about them, except that maybe they involve, I don't know, some kind of massive feast or something. Don't--" he holds up a hand the second Claude gets that look on his face, the precursor to a smile that says he's about to make a joke out of this. "Don't try to tell me that a feast is your dream. You and I both know there's more to you than that."

Claude closes his mouth with a tiny click. He sighs through his nose and looks away, lip twisting in what could be thought, could be frustration. Sylvain can't tell. 

It takes longer than Sylvain would like, but eventually, Claude does speak. "So you want to know what my ambitions are."

"I want to know something."

Green eyes meet brown, and a smile tugs at the corner of Claude's lips despite how plain it is he's trying to fight it down. "Hardly fair of you to demand something so deep and personal. And today of all days, no less. It's my birthday; shouldn't I get a pass?" 

"Your birthday was three weeks ago." Sylvain grabs the pillow behind him and bumps Claude with it, grinning happily. "Or did you forget that I treated you to--" 

"Fine," Claude interrupts, pushing the pillow away with a laugh. "Let's make a deal. You tell me one of your secrets, I'll tell you one of mine."

Sylvain smacks him again, but this time a laugh accompanies the assault. "You already know my biggest secret!" 

"Do I?" Claude smirks. "Which one would that be?" 

"That I like to be topped."

Claude wrenches the pillow out of Sylvain's hand and whacks him with it this time. "That's not a secret! It only took five minutes of talking to you to figure that one out."

Sylvain shrugs. "That's the best I got, babe." 

Claude isn't satisfied. His brows furrow and he raises a hand to his chin, ruminating on what Sylvain is sure will be one hell of an argument. Claude isn't one to talk about himself -- he never has been -- and unless Sylvain plays his cards just right, things will remain that way. 

"Okay," Claude says, at last. "Counter-offer." 

That's a surprise. "I'm listening."

"I'll tell you what you want to know, but you answer the question first."

"You want to know my ambitions?" This time, it's Sylvain's brows that knit together. "Why?" 

"Because I want to know everything about you."

The smile Claude fixes him with, one so open, so uncharacteristically sincere, sends a cool thrill throughout Sylvain. And it hits him: this isn't a joke. This isn’t something Claude can just play off as a scheme to get a rise out of him. He's genuinely interested. 

The thought is both exciting and terrifying all at once, because until now, nobody has ever, ever taken an interest in Sylvain as anything but a crest or a quick fuck. But Claude -- Claude wants to know who he is as a person. 

And that scares Sylvain more than anything. 

He takes a deep breath. 

"... Not sure I like that," he admits, and the mischievous glint in Claude's eye as he leans forward to cup Sylvain's jaw in his hand tells him he has good reason to feel that way. 

Claude hovers just before Sylvain's lips. He's warm. His breath tickles. "Then let me sweeten the deal." 

Sylvain's eyes dart down to Claude's lips. Back up to his eyes. "Go on."

"You answer the question first, and I'll let you do whatever you want to me after."

His tone is low, quiet, and sultry. Enough so that there's no room to doubt the meaning behind those words. Sylvain almost laughs; it figures that Claude would resort to offering more sex to get what he wants. It's not unusual for him, though, and in some ways it's even charming, but more than that, it's frustrating. Because it works.

Still, he holds out just a little bit longer, even though both he and Claude know that Claude has already won. "We just finished."

"I want more." Claude is dangerously close now. His scent is all Sylvain can think about. "Do we have a deal?" 

A pause. Then: "...Yeah. We do."

Claude grins -- Sylvain feels the change in expression from the way Claude's heat shifts in front of him -- and he backs up, giving Sylvain room to breathe. Sylvain wishes he hadn't. But he holds up his end of the deal anyway, sitting up to rest his back against the wall. Claude stays where he is, excitement barely restrained in the gentle slope of his lips. 

Sylvain sighs, ignores the "adorable" that rings out in the back of his mind, and runs a hand through his sex-mussed hair. "Don't look at me like that. Nothing about what I'm about to say is particularly exciting. Or interesting."

"I beg to differ," Claude says. "Everything about you is interesting."

Sylvain's heart leaps into his throat; he tries, pointlessly, to swallow it back down, and it works about as well as trying to keep the heat that rises up his neck from spreading over his face. "I dunno about that. But if you really want to know…” He sighs. “I guess I just… want to live freely."

He waits for a response, and when Claude stays silent, clearly waiting for some sort of elaboration, he continues. "I want to live the kind of life where I can do whatever I want. No expectations to meet, nobody making decisions for me. I want the kind of life where I don't feel any pressure to… perform some kind of act to please people." He pauses, meets Claude's expectant gaze, and looks away. He bites the inside of his cheek, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement -- a question, a confession, anything -- and when he doesn’t get one, he sighs again. “That’s… it. That’s all I want.” 

He runs a hand through his hair again, frustrated. Sylvain realizes he's scowling only a moment later, notes that his tone had gotten dark, and he takes careful steps to relax his expression into something more neutral. It's only when he no longer feels the strain in his brow, the tension in his jaw, that he finally turns to Claude and smiles. Or he tries to -- Sylvain knows, in the painfully familiar way Claude studies him, brow furrowed and lips turned down, that whatever smile he's painted on his lips doesn't reach his eyes. 

"...I see," Claude says at last, so quiet Sylvain almost doesn't hear him. Then, louder, less like a thought and more like an observation: "I was under the impression you already did that." 

Sylvain shrugs. "You'd think."

"So there's a reason you run around like you're trying to get disowned."

Despite himself, despite knowing it's a bad idea to crack a joke, Sylvain laughs and punctuates his words with a wink. "I do my best."

Claude fixes him with another look, one Sylvain can't quite place. Something curious, something analytical, something pitying and affectionate all at once. He feels small under those bright, sharp eyes. Small and transparent. 

Sylvain fidgets, unable to keep still under Claude's piercing stare. He has to turn away. Has to get out from under those eyes. 

Distracted, Sylvain doesn't notice Claude move closer. Not until they're side-by-side, shoulders almost touching. He feels Claude's hand creep closer to his, and though he doesn't seek it out, doesn't take it, the temptation of its comfort is all too present. 

"I want to live in a world without borders."

The world goes still. And slowly, slowly, Sylvain shifts his gaze back to Claude. He opens his mouth, closes it again. Breathes in, out, and speaks. The words come out shaky, breathless: "What did you say?" 

"A world without borders." Claude tilts his head back to gaze at the ceiling, his crown just grazing the wall. "Think about it. What are all these stupid wars for? Keeping one person in, forcing another one out? For building some kind of structure that keeps everything in a neat little line, up until someone decides they don't like where their line is going, and tries to move into another one?" 

His mouth twists into something pained, something uncertain -- something Sylvain has never seen on him before. He doesn't think he could even begin to understand its true depth, all the strife that hides itself under the thin, strained line of his lips, but it's clear that whatever it is that eats away at Claude beneath the surface has been there for a long time. 

"We've built walls, Sylvain. The Church, the Kingdom, the Empire, the Alliance, all of us. I think it's about time we tore them down, don't you?" He laughs hollowly, and the sound chills Sylvain to the bone for more reasons than one. "Just think. If those walls are gone, that means the whole structure can change. There'll be nothing left to defend. No one left to attack. No more need for war, or bloodshed, or fear, or--"

Crests.

Sylvain sees exactly where this is going -- where it could go -- and he launches forward, cutting Claude off before he has the chance to finish his little speech. He takes Claude's face in both hands and crushes their lips together, ignoring the noise of surprise he earns and pushing through it until it turns into a warm, breathless moan. 

Sylvain kisses Claude like a dying man needs air, like he'll collapse and perish if they're apart for anything more than a second. He kisses Claude as if he's the only thing in the world that matters. He may as well be, right now. Because for the first time in what feels like forever, someone has shown Sylvain something past the future he'd always expected was waiting for him, the future that had always nipped at his heels no matter how much he'd tried to run from it. 

He doesn't know if he believes it's possible. Not just yet. But if this is what Claude wants, if this is what he's trying to do… then Sylvain will follow him. He will chase that hope until it's snuffed out, and until the golden light Claude exudes fades completely. 

And then, at last, after too long and not nearly long enough, Sylvain pulls away. He doesn't let go of Claude, and Claude doesn't let go of him. At some point during their kiss, they had joined hands: Claude's fingers had wound between his own even as Sylvain had held fast to his face. 

Sylvain watches him. Claude's eyes are bright. Warm. They meet Sylvain's on the tail end of a smile. 

"And how do you plan to make this dream of yours come true?" Sylvain is surprised at how hoarse his voice is. How strangely desperate. "It won't be easy. Are you going to tell me you're planning to start a war for this?"

Claude's grip on Sylvain's hand tightens. He squeezes it, firmly, the same way he might if he were making a pact. He leans forward; their foreheads touch. 

"Never."

"Then how?" 

Claude smiles. It's a wonderful, enticing, mischievous little grin that Sylvain finds himself falling in love with. "I'm sure I can come up with some scheme or another."

Sylvain kisses him again. And in that moment, he and vows that he will follow Claude to the ends of the world and beyond.

Anything to make Claude's dream, and his own, come true. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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